


Time Taken

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Bitter Fruit. Jiyong struggles to keep himself together for the two years Seunghyun is away. He's not entirely successful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Taken

 

Day 312

 

Of all the sounds in the world, Jiyong loved the constant scratching of graphite over paper the most. It was almost meditative, the repetitive strokes back and forth. He enjoyed not having to actively think about anything when he was drawing, fingers operating on autopilot as detailed images unraveled from the tip of his pencil. His mind went blank and his heart went quiet. The more days that piled up after Seunghyun's departure the more he found himself hidden away inside the tiny second bedroom that he'd converted into a studio. A necessary distraction from the painful ache of yearning permanently living in his bone marrow. Jiyong was thankful for the opportunity to create for himself, he'd genuinely missed it. But he worried that it was the only thing preventing him from spiraling into depression. Sighing, he tossed his pencil down on the drawing table, rubbing roughly at his face with tired hands. Once Summer was over and the school year started again it would be easier. It had to be. Otherwise he'd probably have an emotional breakdown by the end of the year. He laughed, rising from his stool to add yet another finished piece to the pile in the corner. This was getting ridiculous.

 

Jiyong's hand slipped into his pocket, curling around the heart-shaped stone and pressing it firmly against his palm. There had been no other correspondence from Seunghyun since last month. He wasn't sure whether or not to be pleased by this. The less concrete evidence of the boy's absence the better, it was hard enough knowing that he still had to wait four-hundred and eighteen days before he could feel the solid warmth of his embrace. Or hear the deep, raspy chuckle that made his toes curl. Flipping the light off, Jiyong shut the door behind him and got ready for bed.

 

Sometimes he thought that he was remarkably foolish for not being more careful with his heart, for letting it give itself away so easily. But in what universe was he capable of not loving Seunghyun? He could go back to the beginning, start over a million times, and the outcome would never change. Like he was hardwired and this was his only purpose. Any step in any direction, it didn't matter. All paths lead to one end. To one person. As he fell asleep that night, he wondered if he had always been waiting for the dangerously handsome boy with the too-pretty eyes.

 

 

Day 374

 

Jiyong sat at his desk in the art room, hunched over the table top as he looked blankly at his lesson plans. He'd had to kiss the administration's ass to get permission to teach five classes that semester and was just now realizing how fucked he was. In a matter of weeks he'd be up to his ears in assignments to grade, which meant no freedom, no down time, and probably no sleep. At least he was used to the lack of rest. By Summer's end, Jiyong had decided that it was easier to escape Seunghyun when he was awake rather than be tortured by his subconscious when he dreamed. So he'd stopped dreaming and drowned himself with coffee instead. Needless to say, his drawings had taken a turn for the truly bizarre.

 

The school day was over, technically, but his work was far from finished. There were projects to prepare for and supplies to organize. But he didn't want to do any of it. His brain was fried and he felt like an empty shell. Come winter break, he swore to himself that he would crawl into bed and never leave.

 

With a pathetic groan, Jiyong rose to stand, stretching sore muscles and yawning. He glanced up at the ceiling and his heart lurched, constricting uncomfortably in his chest. The lights Seunghyun had installed on the night of his graduation still dangled above. He kept meaning to take them down, but the students thought they were “cool” and the school hadn't said anything. Plus he knew that he could never actually make himself do it. Removing the lights would be like erasing the memory. Like he was saying goodbye all over again. And he refused to go through that. But it hurt to have to see them every day. To have to pretend that he was okay when he wasn't. Jiyong chewed on his bottom lip, tearing the skin with his teeth until he tasted copper on his tongue. He was starting to doubt his ability to keep going.

 

Before he could convince himself not to, he walked over to plug the yellow lights in, then laid down on one of the long tables. He wrapped his arms around himself and breathed slowly. Eyes falling shut, he finally allowed his mind to unfurl, to conjure teasing visions of a face he couldn't touch, couldn't kiss. Of hands he couldn't hold and a smile he never wanted to forget. Why did he miss Seunghyun so much? Why did he feel like he was only a fraction of himself without the boy by his side? Jiyong grimaced, brows furrowing, and his arms clung tighter. Loving someone wasn't supposed to make you suffer, last he'd checked. And yet Jiyong fought daily with the reality that the loneliness eating away at his insides was only going to leave him hollow. Six months in and he was already a hopeless wreck. There had to be a better way to deal with this. This phantom limb that was shaped like a human being.

 

He hoped that he wasn't alone in his suffering, that Seunghyun also felt the weight of his absence. A mountain of earth and stone pressed over his heart.

 

Jiyong opened his eyes and stared at the bright yellow bulbs until all he could see was a swarm of black dots.

 

 

Day 467

 

A letter had arrived in the mail while he was working at school. A letter from Seunghyun. He sat on the couch, elbows digging into his thighs as he mustered the courage to open it. Jiyong jumped up and walked from one end of the room to the other, biting the fingernail of his pinky until there was almost nothing left. The letter was propped against a stack of books on his coffee table, his name printed clearly in the boy's neat handwriting. His gentle sloping scrawl. He wanted those words hiding inside the innocuous white envelope just as much as he wished it didn't exist in the first place. Because as soon as he started reading, he would hear the warm, honey-thick baritone speaking each sentence like the boy was whispering in his ear. Jiyong took a deep breath and plopped back down in the cushions. He was being a coward. And if he waited for his heart rate to chill the fuck out, he'd be sitting there for weeks.

 

“Just open the fucking thing,” he muttered to himself.

 

Reaching out hesitantly, he snatched it from the coffee table and broke the seal.

 

_Dear Jiyong,_

 

_I'm sorry that this is the first letter I've sent you, but it took a while for things to calm down after training. They sent me to Mali, to Sikasso more specifically. It's the second largest city after the capital. I've been working with children mostly, helping them with their basic education. Kinda funny that I ended up being a teacher, don't you think?_

 

He smiled, leaning back and propping his legs up on the couch as he read. So the little shit was in Africa. Jiyong shook his head and continued.

 

_The best part is playing soccer every day after classes behind the schoolhouse. I wish you could see the incandescent grins on these kids faces as they chase me up and down the empty dirt lot, trying to steal the ball. Usually they run circles around me, but I'm pretty sure they let me score a few goals now and then just to make me feel better. Mali may be a poor country, but it's not poor in spirit. I'm sure that sounds cheesy but things are simpler here. Happiness isn't hard to find. It's just different, if that makes any sense. If you were here I would show you everything. The colors, the food, the laughter, the music. It's unreal. Maybe that's the culture-shock talking but this country is amazing, Ji. When it rains, the only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears. It's like the heavens open up and just dump an ocean of water on the dry earth. The Niger River floods, the flora practically swells with life and light. I can't describe it. You'll just have to see it one day. Oh! Oh god, and the mangoes. The mangoes are so insanely delicious I'd be surprised if I didn't turn into one by the time I leave._

 

Chuckling, Jiyong tried not to imagine Seunghyun eating a mango. Its juices dripping from his lips and his fingers. He shivered at the thought.

 

_I miss you. I miss you so much I can't stand it sometimes. Fuck, I miss you so much I can't stand it ever. I almost couldn't bring myself to write this at all because I was afraid I'd end up filling a thousand pages with sappy bullshit about how I think of you every second of every day. About how much it physically pains me that I can't hold you or kiss you or listen to the even rhythm of your breathing as you sleep next to me. I bet you didn't know that I cried after I left your apartment, that last night before I flew out for training. Cried so hard I had to pull over because I couldn't see a damn thing through all my blubbering. Walking away from you then, knowing exactly how many days, weeks, months would have to inch by before I could see you again, was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I know I'm still young. And that you'd give me shit for being so melodramatic. But it's true. No one should have to know what that feels like, wanting to rip your own heart out because then the anguish would end. It never gets any easier either, even as I grow more accustomed to my new life here. You are so much a part of who I am. I realize that now. The puzzle piece I didn't even know I was missing._

 

_I hope that you're handling this better than I am. I sent you the stone to grant you patience but I think I needed it most. More than anything though, I think I just need you. Will always need you._

 

_I love you, Jiyong. There will never be enough words in all the languages of this world for me to be able to tell you exactly how much._

 

 

_Forever yours,_

_Seunghyun_

 

_P.S. Please take care of yourself. I have every intention of reclaiming the heart you once gave to me, and I'd like it back in perfect condition._

 

Jiyong hadn't realized there were tears rolling down his cheeks until the boy's words blurred into inky, illegible blotches. He sniffled and wiped the moisture from his eyes, willing the sobs building in his chest to vanish. But he read the letter again and the sobs came regardless, ripping through him before even got to the end.

 

Hugging his knees close, he sat there huddled on the couch for hours. The apartment had gone dark but he didn't want to turn any lights on. He'd rather wallow in his melancholy than pretend that everything was going to be all right. He'd been holding it in for far too long, anyway.

 

 

Day 560

 

One year had passed and the number of drawings Jiyong had produced was genuinely terrifying. So instead of letting them rot, he put them in a gallery. The opening was tonight. He felt like he was going to vomit.

 

His fingers shook as he adjusted his tie, palms sweaty as he smoothed them down over his dress shirt. Gripping the edge of the sink, he stared dejectedly at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was his first showing since college and he didn't know what the hell he was thinking. The acidic tang of bile crept up his throat, stomach churning with nausea. Jiyong slapped a smile on his face but it didn't reach his eyes. He wondered if anyone else would notice. Inhaling a ragged breath, he pressed his hand to his chest and wished, with every fiber of his being, that Seunghyun was there to help him relax. It was that bastard's fault that he was even there to begin with. The heart-shaped stone dug insistently into his leg where it was wedged in the pocket of his jeans. The dull, pinching pressure would have to do for now. He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind his ear and forced himself back into the crowded gallery.

 

Jiyong was relieved that it wasn't a solo show because then the place would have been empty. This way he could wander unnoticed amongst the throng of strangers. A passive observer. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to tell the story behind his inspiration or explain his artistic process. The end result would just be awkward silences and expressions of pity. Fuck pity. Besides, they were all idiots. Standing in the back, he nursed his third plastic tumbler of vodka and tried to melt into the floor.

 

“If you look this pretty when you're scowling, I'd hate to see you smile.”

 

Shit. He made an effort not to roll his eyes, turning to face his new “friend”. A man, perhaps a few years older than him. Dark hair perfectly coiffed, green eyes, exquisitely tailored suit, sun-kissed skin peeking out through his open collar. He swallowed. The man grinned, dimples forming on either side of his mouth.

 

“Sorry, I can't help it.” Jiyong knocked back the rest of his drink.

 

“That's a shame. I bet you're gorgeous when you smile.”

 

Amazingly, Jiyong felt a faint heat bloom in his cheeks. He looked down at the ice melting in his empty cup.

 

“You're one of the artists, right?”

 

He nodded and the man extended a broad, long-fingered hand.

 

“I'm Henry.”

 

Jiyong folded his own hand around Henry's, a delicious tingle traveling up his arm.

 

“Jiyong.”

 

“It's a pleasure. Can I get you another drink?”

 

“Sure. Thank you.”

 

Henry grinned again, fingers sliding along his palm as he finally dropped the lingering handshake and left to get him a refill. He started chewing on his nails. What the fuck was he doing?

 

Playing with fire. Always.

 

The man returned and the inquisition began. Where did he go to school? How long had he been drawing? What artists inspired him? How did he end up teaching? Did he have a favorite painting? Why was he here alone? The last question made him pause, even though the alcohol had loosened his tongue considerably. Henry had shamelessly been flirting with him from the beginning and he had enjoyed every minute. Enjoyed the attention. He shifted his weight and the heart-shaped stone strained against the confines of his pocket. Jiyong ignored it.

 

“Because I am alone.”

 

“Well that won't do at all.” Henry frowned adorably. “It's a good thing I found you.”

 

“It is.” Jiyong's lips curved upwards.

 

Bright laughter spilled from seductively full lips and the man reached out to brush his knuckles over the side of his face.

 

“See? Absolutely stunning.”

 

He recognized the hunger in those green eyes for what it was. And the answering hunger in his gut clenched fiercely into a tight knot. Without a second thought, Jiyong gripped Henry's wrist and dragged them outside to hail a cab.

 

 

*

 

 

Muscled arms pinned him to the bed and he moaned loudly when Henry rolled his hips, sucking noisily at his jaw. His eyes were closed but it didn't matter. The hands roaming over his body weren't smooth and tender. They were calloused and rough. The lips trailing down his neck weren't gentle and soft and teasing. They were dry and overeager. The hair under his fingers wasn't thick and silken. It was short and bristly and had too much product, leaving a layer of grease on his skin. Henry was unbuttoning Jiyong's shirt, his tie already discarded carelessly in the front hall. The man licked a wet stripe down his chest, palm kneading his erection through the fabric of his boxers, and he gasped. Panting heavily, his brain slogged through the intoxicated haze, screaming at him to acknowledge the reality of what was happening. This was not Seunghyun. And he was breaking his promise. The disgust he felt towards himself in that moment was monumental.

 

“Stop.”

 

“What?” Henry lifted his head, confused look on his chiseled face.

 

“I said stop.” Jiyong sighed. “I can't do this.”

 

“Can't?” The man squeezed his cock, making him groan. “Or won't?”

 

“Both.” He smacked the hand away, scrambling out from under him.

 

“Your body seems to be saying otherwise.”

 

“Yeah, well you're not talking to my body, you're talking to me,” Jiyong nearly growled. “Now get the fuck out.”

 

“Jesus christ. Calm down.” The larger man stood, gathering his clothes. “I'm going.”

 

“Good.”

 

Henry scoffed and left the room.

 

“Thanks for nothing, asshole,” he called out before slamming the front door shut.

 

“Right,” he whispered. “Nothing.”

 

Jiyong was still panting, though more out of anger than anything else. There was no excuse for what he almost did. For what he had intended to do. Was he really so weak that he would jump into bed with the first goddamn person to flatter him? The fact that he didn't let Henry fuck him wasn't important. Just the idea of betraying Seunghyun when the boy didn't even know he was being betrayed, that was despicable. And even worse that it had been a conscious decision. Assisted by too much alcohol, but conscious nonetheless. He got up from his mattress, shuffling into the bathroom and turning on the shower. There was dirt on his hands now.

 

Once the water was lukewarm Jiyong stepped in, fully clothed, and sunk to the base of the tub. He would tell Seunghyun what had occurred and he knew that he would be forgiven. Knew that the boy would probably forgive him anything. That's what hurt the most. Because he was loved, he would be granted forgiveness.

 

And he didn't deserve any of it.

 

Droplets of water collected on his eyelashes and mingled with the hot, salty tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. In his heart, no amount of forgiveness would repair the trust that he had violated. Seunghyun was precious to him, the most precious of all things, and he didn't want this stain marring what existed between them. But he just had to go and fuck it up, falling victim to the siren song of his own lust. God, what a joke. Jiyong's head collided with the tiled wall as shivers joined the sobs wracking his worthless body. He hoped he choked on his own self-loathing.

 

 

 

Day 684

 

Two more letters had arrived from Seunghyun since the night of the gallery opening, each one making Jiyong hate himself a little more for being so stupid. So cruel. He admitted that he might have been a little too harsh in beating himself up for something that hadn't even happened, though he still thought he was a piece of shit for allowing it to escalate so far. Two years was a long time to remain celibate. He didn't care who you were. That didn't make it right, but it didn't mean he deserved to be flogged either. He wasn't perfect. He was human.

 

Slouched over the table in his kitchen, he played with the heart-shaped stone, spinning it on its side. The boy in those letters was not the boy Jiyong had sent off all those months ago. Seunghyun was almost twenty now and he had changed. Grown up. An experience like that was bound to change anyone, really. Immersing yourself in an entirely different culture for that many months must have been fascinating. Life-altering. Indescribable. Jiyong set the stone in his palm, its familiar weight a comfort and a burden. A permanent reminder of why he woke up every morning, trudging through the day just to get to the next one. There were only forty-six mornings remaining. Forty-six sunrises and sunsets before Seunghyun came back to him.

 

Jiyong puffed up his cheeks, blowing out a sigh through pursed lips. Did the boy still love him as much as when he had left? Not that he didn't say it in his writing, but the possibility of it being true chipped away at his resolve. Because he honestly didn't know if he'd been holding onto his promise so tightly simply because he'd made it. Yes, Jiyong longed for Seunghyun. Desperately. His heart had never once ceased to ache. But how much of that was habit and how much was love? He'd been aching so long he couldn't be sure.

 

Time would tell, though. It always did. Only forty-six days. One thousand, one hundred and four hours. Sixty-six thousand, two hundred and forty minutes. Three million, nine hundred seventy-four thousand and four hundred seconds.

 

Three million, nine hundred seventy-four thousand, three hundred and ninety-nine.

 

Three million, nine hundred seventy-four thousand, three hundred and ninety-eight.

 

Three million, nine hundred seventy-four thousand, three hundred and ninety-seven...

 

 

 

Day 730

 

The plane had landed but they were still on the tarmac, gradually making their way to their assigned gate. Seunghyun felt like he was going to detonate if they didn't hurry the fuck up. His knees bounced and he couldn't stop fidgeting with everything he touched. The elderly man next to him gave him a weird look but he simply grinned and laughed. In his last letter to Jiyong he'd included his travel information so the boy knew when he arrived. He prayed, oh how he prayed, that his lovely face would be greeting him when he got down to baggage claim. Fuck, he was so nervous. He would probably spend the rest of his life being nervous as long as Jiyong would always be waiting for him. Seunghyun shouldered his backpack, the passengers in front of him leaking out of the cabin one by one. He tried not to step on anyone's heels in his excitement, breaking into a run once he was in the terminal. At the time, he'd been a little agitated about his layover in Washington, D.C., but now he didn't have to go through customs or immigration. Thank heaven for small favors.

 

The smile never left his face as he jogged along crowded halls and moving walkways, dodging rolling luggage and wandering children. When he reached the final flight of stairs, he stopped, catching his breath and adjusting his clothes. His hair was most likely a mess from sleeping on the plane, so he loosened the tie, running his hands through the long strands before pulling it up unto a half-assed bun. Seunghyun had only cut it once the entire time he was gone and now it spilled down to his shoulders. He wondered if Jiyong would like it. Jiyong. Jiyong Jiyong Jiyong. Finally, he was going to see Jiyong. With one last sweep over his wrinkled attire, he hopped down the steps.

 

Almost instantly he spotted the older boy. His heart froze, suspended mid-beat, as he drank in the sight of the sole thing he treasured most in this world. Jiyong's head turned and their eyes locked and suddenly he couldn't suck enough air into his lungs. Seunghyun gasped, heart fluttering back to life with such ferocity he marveled that it wasn't flopping around on the floor after bursting from his ribcage. His legs started to move before he'd consciously decided to walk, carrying him towards the boy like they didn't have any other function. And then he was pulling Jiyong into a suffocating embrace, lips sliding against his mouth so sweetly he nearly wanted to die from happiness. Fingers that he'd dreamed about endlessly clenched fistfuls of his shirt, yanking him so close they might as well be the same person. Seunghyun lifted Jiyong off of the ground and the boy wrapped his legs around his waist. He laughed and the boy impatiently slid his tongue into his mouth. They kissed for an eternity, lost in time. Lost in each other. It almost didn't seem real that the two years had passed and he was holding Jiyong in his arms.

 

“Quick, pinch me.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Pinch me. I need to know if I'm dreaming or not.”

 

Smirking, the older boy leaned in, drawing his earlobe between his teeth and biting down. Hard.

 

“Fuck, ow, okay, thank you.” Seunghyun laughed.

 

He spun them around in circles, Jiyong's arms looped around his neck in a vice grip. Sighing, Seunghyun closed his eyes and let his mind go blank, focusing entirely on the way they fit together. The way it felt to hold the boy. The familiarity of that heart beat skipping in synch with his. It gave him an overwhelming sense of peace.

 

“I can't believe you're really here,” Jiyong mumbled, sniffling.

 

Was he crying? He pulled back and the older boy slid into a standing position. Seunghyun framed dampened cheeks, wiping the tears away with gentle thumbs, and his throat tightened. Jiyong's shoulders began to shake as the tears continued to flow. He tucked his head under his chin, hands moving over his back in soothing strokes.

 

“Shh...” Seunghyun sensed the sting of his own tears prickling behind his eyes. “Don't cry.”

 

“I love you so much,” the boy sobbed against his chest.

 

That's all it took for the dam to break, the words curling around his heart and squeezing with such force. It was as though he'd been waiting to hear Jiyong say that for a thousand years, not two. But he was here, back where he belonged. He was home. And home was the snotty mess of a boy in his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline. Carefully extricating himself from Jiyong's death grip, Seunghyun pressed a kiss to the boy's temple.

 

“Come on, I'm tired of airports.” He wove their fingers together. “Let's grab my stuff and get the hell out of here.”

 

Nodding, the brunette rubbed at his puffy, reddened eyes, lifting up on his toes to brush his lips over the salty trails on Seunghyun's face. He smiled broadly.

 

“I'm never letting go of your hand, by the way.”

 

“Then how do you plan on driving?”

 

“With my knees, obviously.”

 

“Maybe I should drive.”

 

“No way, I've got six years experience on you.”

 

“If we get in an accident you're paying for my hospital bill.”

 

“Oh ye of little faith.”

 

They retrieved his luggage and headed towards the parking lot. Seunghyun chuckled and shook his head. Yeah, it was good to be home.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Every second they'd spent apart dissolved as soon as they entered Jiyong's apartment. Memory was funny that way, distance and time contracting and expanding as it wanted to. He could have been gone ten years it would still have felt like nothing the instant their hands touched. The instant their lips met. They were nestled together on the boy's bed, Seunghyun carding his fingers through soft hair.

 

“What about your parents?”

 

“I'll see them tomorrow. You're more important.”

 

He knew there were too many things they needed to talk about. Like where he was going to send college applications. And what they would do if those colleges were out of state. Seunghyun didn't want to think about any of that shit when he'd only just returned. There was a future out there, somewhere, and he would find it eventually. But for now he wanted to stay with Jiyong and let the moment stretch out beyond the reaches of infinity.

 

“I need to tell you something, but I don't want to ruin your homecoming.” The boy's voice was small, like he was afraid to continue.

 

“You won't ruin anything.” Seunghyun lifted their clasped fingers, pressed his mouth to the back of the boy's hand.

 

“Just let me finish first and then you can be the judge of that.”

 

“Okay.” He frowned, wondering if his growing suspicions would prove to be true.

 

“I had a gallery showing while you were gone. I was so nervous that I tried to drown it in alcohol but it just ended up making me more of an idiot.” Jiyong paused and inhaled deeply. “Because I brought someone home.”

 

Seunghyun's frown deepened but he remained silent.

 

“Nothing happened though. I kicked him out after I realized what I was doing and then proceeded to never stop hating myself.” The boy hid his face in one of his pillows. “I'm so sorry.”

 

“Jiyong.” Sitting up, he used his free hand to lift the brunette's chin. “It's okay.”

 

“No, it isn't.” The older boy refused to make eye-contact.

 

He sighed. It wasn't that he was upset, it was that Jiyong obviously couldn't forgive himself. Well, all right he was a little upset, but he was the one that had left. He was the one that abandoned the older boy and asked him to wait because he was selfish and greedy and he didn't want to lose him. By no means was he world-weary and wise after his time abroad, but looking back he saw now that he had built a cage around Jiyong, thinking that making him promise would keep him safe. Seunghyun had made the boy suffer due to his foolish, possessive heart. And that was so much worse.

 

“I'm the one that should be sorry.”

 

Jiyong's gaze flicked up to meet his, brows furrowed.

 

“Why? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

He smoothed a finger over the knot between his eyebrows, letting it trail down the bridge of his nose.

 

“I locked you away when I should have set you free. It was wrong of me to make you wait.”

 

“But I wanted to wait for you.”

 

A sad smile tugged at his lips and he traced the curve of Jiyong's cheek.

 

“Exactly, it was your choice. I feel like I put too much pressure on you by making it a request.”

 

“So you're not angry?”

 

“I'm not thrilled, but I'm not angry, no. Stop hating yourself.”

 

The boy huffed, eyes shining with newly formed tears.

 

“You should be angry,” Jiyong hiccuped as they spilled over. “How can you not be angry?”

 

“Because it's my fault for putting you in that position. For being the cause of your loneliness.”

 

“The fact that you're taking this so well makes me feel like a bigger piece of shit than I did before. Makes me feel like a child.”

 

“Would you prefer it if I was shouting at you?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I don't know why you think you deserve to be punished.”

 

“I violated your trust.”

 

“You were vulnerable.”

 

Jiyong let out a sharp, humorless laugh, dropping Seunghyun's hand to cover his face.

 

“You're not making this easy.” The boy cried harder. “I'm sorry.”

 

He wasn't sure what to say to soothe him. It hurt to see Jiyong so full of anguish.

 

“The fact that another man touched you, that a foreign pair of lips were on your body instead of mine, doesn't make me angry.” Seunghyun pulled his hands away so he could look at him. “It makes me sad.”

 

God, now he was going to start crying again too, chest swelling with too many emotions. What a pair they made.

 

“It fills me with sadness because I should've been here, and I wasn't.”

 

“Seunghyun,” the boy choked on his name, eyes swimming with more than just tears.

 

“But I'm here now,” he murmured, caressing his jaw and his neck, ignoring the warm droplets collecting at his own chin.

 

Seunghyun bent forward to kiss him, cradling him in his arms, wishing he could remove all traces of pain from his mind and his heart. He wondered just how broken Jiyong really was. He seemed to cry too easily. Pushing the older boy into the mattress, he curled around his smaller body and nuzzled at the side of his face. It would take time, he knew, for them to become whole again. But he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. If Jiyong would allow it, he would never leave him.

 

The sun had long since faded, the only light in the room coming from the streetlamp outside, casting an orange glow over their tangled forms. He had no idea how late it was. Or how long they'd been laying there like that. All he knew was that the brunette's tears had ceased and the subject had been dropped temporarily. Seunghyun toyed with the hairs at they boy's nape, letting the pads of his fingers reacquaint themselves with the downy texture.

 

“Can we please stay like this forever?” Jiyong shifted, cuddling closer, forehead resting against his.

 

“We can certainly try.”

 

“Let's do it,” the boy yawned, relaxing beneath him.

 

“Are you sure you wanna keep me around for that long?”

 

He received a lazy shove for asking.

 

“Don't even joke about that.”

 

Seunghyun grinned, chuckling faintly. A few minutes later Jiyong was asleep and he stayed there, wide awake, listening to the even rhythm of the boy's breath.

 

“Sweet dreams, dear heart,” he whispered, stealing one last kiss from soft lips.

 

 

Day 1,474

 

When he was in high school, he'd never entertained the idea of going anywhere. Of doing anything. Seunghyun's life had been one gigantic question mark. It didn't matter that he was smart, or that he was talented. There hadn't been a single area of study that interested him. Until he met Jiyong. The older boy had been responsible for so much change, so much inspiration. He was the reason why Seunghyun was in New York City studying at NYU. He was the reason why he'd chosen to pursue education. He was the reason for everything. He  _was_  everything.

 

It was still hard to believe he was going to be a fucking teacher. An English teacher on top of it. Seunghyun laughed as he walked down the street, on his way home from the first day of classes. Every time he thought about it he couldn't help but smile. Jiyong derived even more amusement, making fun of him every chance he got. Keying in the entry code to their building, he jogged up the stairs and let himself into the apartment, leaving his bag in the hall and shedding his jacket.

 

“Ji?” He called out.

 

“In here.”

 

So the master was at work. Treading quietly, Seunghyun snuck into the space the boy used as his studio. Jiyong was standing in front of a large canvas, entirely covered in paint, as he surveyed his progress. He slipped his arms around him from behind, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin behind his ear.

 

“Good afternoon.” He grinned when he felt the slide of wet pigment over his hands.

 

“How was school?” Jiyong tilted his head to the side, giving Seunghyun's mouth better access.

 

“Uneventful.”

 

“Figures.”

 

Chuckling he pulled the collar of the boy's t-shirt down and licked at a sharp collarbone, earning himself a low hum of pleasure. Jiyong spun to face him, colorful fingers unbuttoning Seunghyun's cardigan and the shirt underneath.

 

“You're gonna get paint all over you.”

 

He shrugged, peeling the boy's top off and dropping it on the floor.

 

“It's acrylic, it'll wash out.”

 

Jiyong's hands wiped streaks of vibrant blue and pink over his bare chest while he focused on removing the rest of their clothes. This wasn't the first time he'd initiated sex in the studio, and it wouldn't be the last. He liked getting dirty. Liked the way the paint made their skin slide together. Seunghyun nosed at the older boy's cheek, pressing sloppy kisses across his face until he hungrily claimed those perfect lips. Gripping his hips, Jiyong pulled him firmly against his body, against his flushed, half-hard cock. They both gasped. He nipped at the boy's mouth, teasing him until he whimpered for more. Slowly, he pushed his tongue past his teeth and Jiyong sighed, melting into the contact. Seunghyun's nails bit into the flesh of the boy's back, making him buck forward with a throaty growl. The paint-stained hands on his hips traveled up to his shoulders, forcing him down to kneel at the brunette's feet.

 

Without hesitating, he leaned in to suck at the base of Jiyong's cock, fingers clenching at tender thighs. The boy moaned and held onto the back of Seunghyun's head, wordlessly urging him to continue. He licked all the way up the shaft and grazed the head with his teeth before slipping it into his mouth.

 

“Jesus, Seunghyun,” Jiyong breathed.

 

Bobbing up and down, he cupped the boy's sac in one hand, kneading it gently in his palm. The sounds pouring from Jiyong's lungs were unbelievably erotic. Needy, desperate sounds. Flicking his tongue over the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock, the brunette's hips stuttered. He swallowed around the shaft and Jiyong almost yelled in surprised bliss.

 

“Stop,” the boy panted, pulling away. “Not yet.”

 

Seunghyun laughed slightly.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You're sorry for being excessively talented at sucking my dick?” Jiyong smiled, bringing both of them to lay on the floor. “I don't believe you.”

 

“Okay I'm not sorry,” he murmured between butterfly kisses as the boy straddled him. “In fact I'm trying very hard not to gloat right now.”

 

“That's more like it.”

 

Rocking back on his heels, Jiyong lifted up just enough to align Seunghyun's erect cock at his entrance.

 

“Wait, aren't you-”

 

But the boy had already slammed down, engulfing him fully with his tight heat. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes screwed shut and nerves vibrating with intense pleasure.

 

“Holy fuck,” he groaned, head knocking back against the ground.

 

“I prepared myself earlier,” Jiyong whispered into his ear, dragging his lips along his jaw and the column of his neck.

 

Seunghyun's eyes almost rolled back into his skull when the brunette began to move, rolling his hips in tortuously slow circles. His hands found the boy's waist, supporting his weight as they found a comfortable rhythm. He imagined Jiyong fingering himself open, legs spread, sweat beading on his skin from the effort. An intense shudder rippled down his spine and he was having trouble breathing.

 

“You're shameless,” he said, gasping.

 

“Only for you.” The boy smirked.

 

Knees bent and feet planted flat on the floor, he tugged Jiyong forward by the back of his neck, smothering his moans with a messy kiss when he thrust upwards roughly. The older boy whined, raising his hips and slamming himself down around Seunghyun's cock, over and over and over again. It wouldn't be long now. He snaked a hand between them, fisting the boy's swollen shaft and stroking him steadily. Jiyong was incoherent at this point, moan after wanton moan ripping from his throat as he was hurtled towards oblivion. With a hitched sob, the boy came, painting both of their chests with thick spurts of white. Seunghyun cried out when Jiyong contracted around him with the force of his orgasm, sending him over the edge almost immediately.

 

“Fuck me,” he moaned, hoarse.

 

“Next time.” Jiyong pecked him on the cheek and grinning widely, pinched one of his nipples. “Race you to the shower.”

 

The older boy broke away, helping Seunghyun to stand up from his boneless sprawl. He started for the door, but Jiyong smacked his ass and took off running, giggling the entire way. Sometimes he truly believed that his boyfriend was a twelve year old girl, and not a twenty-eight year old man.

 

“Such an idiot,” he muttered to himself, laughing as he followed the fading sounds of bare feet slapping against hardwood floors.

 

His idiot. Seunghyun smiled. Forever and always.


End file.
